


You can come home to me (When you’re ready..)

by TemperateWriting



Series: DreamSMP Songfics [3]
Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gen, Help I can’t stop thinking about ghostbur, Recent war stream spoilers, Songfic, he needs a hug, oh yeah aNGST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:00:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27643112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TemperateWriting/pseuds/TemperateWriting
Summary: A father grieves while L’manberg reports paranormal activity.==o==Please somebody give Ghostbur a hug I feel like he needs itSong; Smoke signals by cavetown (ft. Tessa Violet)
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: DreamSMP Songfics [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1968172
Comments: 5
Kudos: 159





	You can come home to me (When you’re ready..)

> _ “I know I'm a freak _
> 
> _ Ripped the band aid, broke the peace _
> 
> _ Took the lock but lost the key”  _

There was confusion in the darkness. Wilbur found himself glancing around wearily around, death was dark and endless. Even his own skin looked dull and washed out from the lack of light. Oddly enough, a vibrant yellow jumper replaced what was his old trench coat. 

Death was confusing. Wilbur wanted sleep, but couldn’t. 

Perhaps he deserved it. 

> _ “Guess I set you free _
> 
> _ I hope you found a place to sleep _
> 
> _ I know you're bound to think of me”  _

Phil still couldn’t comprehend what he had done. What had once been a crazed, but energetic Wilbur laid in his arms, bloody and resting far too peacefully. The winged father still held the hilt of the sword weakly in his palms. 

He was unsure why he did it. Wilbur was his son. His pleas were just…

Phil felt off by the lack of tears. He knew if he didn’t intervene then, the situation would only get worse. He ran his fingers gently through his son’s hair one last time. 

Perhaps there was something comforting in dying in a loved one’s arms. 

(He sure hoped.) 

> _ “You can come home to me _
> 
> _ When you're ready _
> 
> _ I left the gate unlocked for you” _

It was maybe a day later before reports of paranormal activity around new L’manberg. Phil didn’t believe it at first, as he’d never experience such in the area. 

Puffy had reported soft music being carried from an empty corner of the new house. She described it as “solemn, but somehow uplifting.” Phil heard no music. 

Niki had talked about odd movements of her indoor plants, despite the windows and doors being closed. Even stranger, some plants randomly bloomed in front of her. Phil witnessed no movements, no blooming. 

Even Tubbo had described books left open for display randomly flipping pages. According to him, they were old L’manberg writings, mainly the original Declaration of Independance and early election documents. Phil saw no movement from the books.

  
  


> _ “'Til then I'm sendin' out _
> 
> _ Smoke signals _
> 
> _ Hopin' I'll see yours too”  _

It was when Fundy told him about his own sighting that Phil started to panic slightly. 

His grandson had told him how he’d set up his piano within his own house built above the crater. Just to test that nothing was too damaged, he began to play a song. It wasn’t terribly upbeat, but was soon joined in by a strum of a guitar. 

Fundy was careful to describe the next part, partly for his own sake. Phil watched as several emotions washed over his grandson’s face as he described the next sight. 

Gray tone features, dark jeans. Vibrant yellow jumper. An oddly peaceful face was rested upon this ghost’s face— Wilbur’s face. Fundy was certain of it, and Phil wasn’t to judge. Who wouldn’t recognize their own father? 

Tubbo and Quackity also confirmed these sightings, talking about conversations they had with the spirit. 

Phil hasn’t seen him once, longing and grief hitting him in a second wave. 

> _ “When the dust has set _
> 
> _ Settled up and done our debts _
> 
> _ Nothing left to go collect” _

Wilbur had rested his hands over various plants in Niki’s house. Niki was nice, his limited memories proved so. 

Her pride radiating onto his own as she presented the glorious flag, for example. Wilbur wondered where the flag went. Probably lost, like most of the old soul inside of him. 

The blossoming of the flowers were always fascinating. He drifted elsewhere. 

The books within Tubbo’s house were nice to reflect on, though if he remembered correctly, the boy couldn’t exactly read. 

Some pages stung to flip. Most of the words seem to deter him away. 

Music never shrugged him away, though. He could strum a guitar all he wanted, to any tune he thought of. His grayscale fingers shifted effortlessly over the strings. 

When he tried to join Fundy's own little performance, it was cut short. A panic look was sent his way, and Wilbur only waved, before continuing where he left off. 

Conversations popped up over several members. Some seemed shocked, but Wilbur was fine with it. They’d also given him the name ‘Ghostbur,’ and he’d accepted it. That was what he was, after all. Some sort of ghost with far too patchy memory.

He wasn’t too fond when the conversations took a turn towards his memories. Apparently old Wil wasn’t too kind. 

> _ “If you're feelin' spent _
> 
> _ When it's heavy on your chest _
> 
> _ When you think there's nothing left” _

It was maybe weeks- months later? (Time is an odd concepts) when Ghostbur seemed to notice a blond man with a large pair of grey wings. His memories were too hazy to remember much, but an odd feeling in his chest was a different reaction than when he tried to recall other things. 

He— as in the blond man— was resting on an opening in the cliff side beside the crater. A small stream of water poured from the top, and into the pit. 

His wings were curled slightly around him, posture saddened. Ghostbur advanced out of curiosity.    
  


> _ “You can come home to me _
> 
> _ When you're ready _
> 
> _ I left the gate unlocked for you _
> 
> _ 'Til then I'm sendin' out _
> 
> _ Smoke signals _
> 
> _ Hopin' I'll see yours too” _

The man said nothing as the spirit sat next to him, the odd feeling in his chest grew stronger, but not painful. It was more awkward, uncomfortable even. 

In fact, the man said nothing at all, and just stared at the stilts and exposed stone. Nobody else was around at the moment. 

Ghostbur couldn’t help but to notice a small gathering of wild flowers leaned against the corner. Nothing was labeled, but felt bittersweet with importance. 

Perhaps it was creepy to watch, but he did so. He watched the man sit in sorrow, hands slowly covering his face. Perhaps they could sit and watch together. 

When the man finally noticed him, Ghostbur in a vibrant jumper, his mouth dropped open wide.

Ghostbur- Wilbur, even, gave a wide smile. Even though he didn’t recognize the winged figure, they sure recognized him. 


End file.
